


Space

by danacas1101



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alligators, Angst, Christmas, F/F, Nicole has feelings, Ugly Sweaters, Waverly also has feelings, and sad, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:33:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28165557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danacas1101/pseuds/danacas1101
Summary: The holidays aren’t always easy. Nor are feelings. Or talking about them. Or realizing you can be your own worst enemy.Aka it's a holiday fic if you look really close. Waverly and Nicole talk and fight and talk a little more. There's also twinkle lights.
Relationships: Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught
Comments: 8
Kudos: 26





	Space

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been reading a lot of fluffy fic lately, so naturally my brain decided to produce the total opposite, in the form of one self-destructive Waverly Earp. Really, this is angsty and sad and I'm a little bit sorry but not really because I'm also Team Angst and Team Feelings.
> 
> Thanks to B for feeling the feels with me and never questioning if this was too sad even when I did.

It had been a few days since it happened. Her emotions were still raw about what had been said but deep down, Waverly Earp knew what she had told Nicole was probably, no, definitely, for the best. 

Nicole Haught deserved someone better, she did, and although she had told Nicole that with a brain half gone off a bottle of whiskey, Waverly knew with a sober mindset too that it was true, well that and drunk words are often sober thoughts. 

Waverly knew that basically telling Nicole to get over her, that they wouldn’t work because she was a mess and Nicole did deserve 100 times better than a washed-up barmaid could ever be for her, had been the right thing to do. 

But just because Waverly knew that didn’t mean her stomach didn’t drop every time her phone went off with a notification from Wynonna, Jeremy or Rosita instead of Nicole. Or the way her heart squeezed when she replayed the look on Nicole’s face as she had said it all, as she went for one more round in a fight they had been in since they met, that Waverly wasn’t good enough for her, at least not right now. No, right now Waverly would not do for Nicole. 

It had been one of those nights that had started out fine, good even if you weren’t really paying attention. If you didn’t look too closely at the details. If you focused instead on the way the lights from the Christmas tree reflected around the Homestead. How the snow fell outside, calm and at peace. 

A few drinks, a couple of laughs, in a room full of people that Waverly liked the company of. Or in the case of a few, ok, one, maybe more than liked. Not that she would ever fully admit that to herself, let alone anyone else. Because even if she did, say the words and do the things to indicate she liked Nicole, she knew something else even bigger, Nicole was entitled to, no, needed someone better than Waverly could be for her. 

But things were, fine that is, until Nicole gave her that lopsided grin that made her dimples pop with the heart eyes that Waverly knew, she knew, were just for her and no one else. The one that tugged at her heartstrings but also made her want to run. Twinkly lights bounced off her red hair and the glass in her hand, one with Santa Claus skiing around the edges.

Quickly, the warmth in Waverly’s own eyes disappeared. Nicole saw, watched as the light left just as quickly as it had shown up. Her smile dropped. Her eyes set in a slight panic that read Nicole thought she had pushed too far with one smile, and Waverly couldn’t take that look any more than the puppy dog, Nicole thinks she shits rainbows and unicorns, one. 

So, Waverly dragged Nicole outside and started her tangent, again. Then, Nicole got frustrated, again, and told her what she always did, that she wished Waverly could see herself the way that she did. But then, then, Waverly pushed that one final time, where she yelled that Nicole needed someone who made her feel whole and confident about their feelings for her and brave and true. Full stop. Waverly knew she looked crazy, what with the sweater she had on, the blinking lights reflecting off the snow almost in time with each word as it left her mouth.

Something in Nicole changed that time. Waverly watched as something broke. Shattered right there behind brown eyes as the snow served as a stark contrast to her red hair in the evening light, under her green elf hat. All was calm, all was bright. All was silent. 

Nicole finally whispered, “Waves, sometimes I think you really believe you don’t deserve anything good. I’m not saying that it would be good if we were, well, together, but you do, deserve some good, ya know? It’s so frustrating to watch you not think so too.”

She squeezed Waverly’s hand after she said it and then left. Walked from the porch of the Homestead with those two long legs. 

Over the course of the next few days, they didn’t talk. They didn’t call, they didn’t text. Nicole didn’t go to Shorty’s and Waverly didn’t go to the police station. 

But then, as Nicole tried so hard to push the woman she thought she could end up with forever out of her mind for a few moments, a bing on her phone went off.

_“Hey, just wanted to say I hope you’re having a really nice Sunday. :)”_

Nicole stared at it, then stared more. Then grew annoyed at herself that one text, less than 15 words, could make her stomach do backflips. So, she stared, and wondered if it meant anything. Was Waverly just being nice? Was this all part of the smile and wave? Could Waverly sense that Nicole had gone a whole five minutes without thinking about her?

She put her phone down and went for a long, long, long walk in the brisk cold. Got some food, took a shower, and still, an unanswered text awaited her once she finally made her way back to the table, now covered in empty Chinese containers. 

Seven hours later, after she debated about an exclamation point for 23 minutes, she finally replied. 

_“Yeah, it was. Hope yours was too.”_

While Nicole had meant every word she had ever said to Waverly, including the ones about how she would always be there for her, in whatever capacity that meant, even if it was just friends, and that she saw Waverly in her life for the long haul, there was still a pit of sadness in her stomach. A pit that threatened to spread and swallow Nicole whole if she didn’t do what Waverly seemed to ask for, give her some space.

For right now at least. 

So Nicole did. She went on with her day-to-day and tried to not think about Waverly. It worked, sometimes, but then she would get another text, something short wishing Nicole a good day or Waverly popping in to see if she was ok. Was she ok? Of course she wasn’t ok. But Nicole tried, she tried so hard. 

Those texts, the ones checking in on her feelings, made Nicole want to scream a little, or in most cases, a lot, to lose her cool slightly, especially given that Waverly had told her that she thought it was healthier for Nicole if she kept her at arm’s length. To keep her out. For Nicole's own mental health. 

Turns out it’s pretty hard to keep someone out if they keep texting you. 

And every freaking time Nicole seemed to be a little less sad about what had happened, given herself more room to breathe, is when one of those texts would come in. Nicole’s reply time became longer and longer.

Ironically, in doing so, and giving Waverly what Nicole thought she wanted, well, it caused the opposite effect. It made Waverly spiral a little bit more with each text, until one night, after an amount of whiskey that would have even made Wynonna hungover, Waverly called her out. 

_“What is your deal?”_ One text. Four words. All anger.

Nicole saw the notification and didn’t know what to do, what to say. Then another one came in immediately after.

_“I know you saw this, Nicole.”_

Sometimes that last straw does indeed break the camel’s back, even the most patient one. The one who waited for the water last. 

Nicole opened the screen, she pushed the chat icon. She stopped. She thought. She took a sip of beer. She hit send. 

_“Waves, what the hell are you talking about?”_

Nicole one hundred percent knew what Waverly was talking about. 

Waverly huffed at her reply. Her fingers took over as a tiny part of her brain begged for her to stop.

_“Lately, you’ve been taking forever to reply to anything I send. Like, hours longer than we both know it usually takes you to reply, even when you’re on patrol or working on a case or have been hurt and are in the hospital. So I ask, again, what’s your deal?”_

Nicole took a large breath through her nose. She inhaled. She exhaled. She tried to compose herself so she wouldn’t explode on someone she did care so much about, even if Waverly refused to believe it.

But Nicole was also discovering Waverly was someone that was hard to care for, not because of who she was, no, Nicole liked every ounce of Waverly, even the pieces she didn't like about herself, but because she never let anyone in. Not really. Waverly pushed and pushed and pushed until the castle walls were back up, the gates drawn, the moat with an additional alligator. 

She took another breath. Nicole typed and erased and typed again. She hit send before she could think too much about commas and if a period sounded too harsh. She watched as all the words she had tried to not say spilled out onto a screen. Her word vomit now looked right back at her. 

_“Seriously? You basically told me to get over you because you weren’t good enough for me, so that’s what I’ve been doing, trying to get over you. I take so long to reply because it seemed like you needed space, so that's what I’m trying to give you, space, which isn’t just for you, but for me too.”_

Waverly wanted to fight back. She wanted to text Nicole immediately. She wanted to yell and cry and drink more. But, as the bubbles came up to indicate Nicole was still typing, Waverly waited. Each second felt like an hour in the silent kitchen of the Homestead.

A notification came in.

_“I still want you in my life, I do, but, I’m going to need some time to actually get over you first, and honestly, Waves, I’m not sure how long that’s going to take.”_

Waverly clutched her phone as a sob exited her body in a way she had never heard before. Not when Daddy died or Mama left or Wynonna finally came back. 

No, this, this was what it felt like for your heart to truly break. What all those country songs went on and on about. 

Waverly knew a lot of things, one being that she had done this to herself.

The other was, well, it turns out if you tell someone they deserve better enough times, they may actually start to believe it, even when they don’t want to.

She typed. She hit send. She drained the rest of the whiskey in her glass. 

_“Ok.”_

Merry Christmas to me.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry? But thank you for reading! Also, you’re all so pretty and I like you so much. 
> 
> Also also, here's my Twitter [danacas1101 ](https://twitter.com/danacas1101) and two delightful holiday fics you should be reading.
> 
> [ "For the Holidays, You Can't Beat Home Sweet Home" ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27850338/chapters/68186982%22) by GoldenWaffles 
> 
> [ "Real Christmas" ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27777220/chapters/67996930%22) by New54321


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